


Nightingale - Dreamnotfound

by pinktintedskies



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-22 15:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinktintedskies/pseuds/pinktintedskies
Summary: A story in which Clay is a trained killer. The top of the Specialties, to be exact. And when he finds himself at the wrong place at the wrong time, he is assigned an important mission to go on a manhunt for the one who stole important government papers.19-year-old George did what no other Common man could- he stole important government papers, and it didn't take long for the Specialties to find him.But when they finally meet face to face, their encounter takes an unexpected turn, and Clay can't seem to pull the trigger...
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24
Collections: Dreamnotfound fanfic





	1. ||Post-Apocalyptic America||

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on Wattpad (@/pinktintedskies) before being cross-posted to ao3 for audiences who might not have Wattpad. There are currently 17 chapters up on the original that will all be re-edited and cross-posted in due time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After completing their mission for the day, Dream and Sapnap pay Wilbur a visit to find him not in the best shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood and death

Everyone thought the end of the world would be after the nuclear apocalypse, but it turned out to only be the beginning of a new era. One that I was unfortunate enough to grow up in. Sometimes I wished I got to know what it was like to see the blue sky or green grass.

I only had the faintest memory of it. It was of me and my older sister. I had to have been five or six, and she was seven or eight. It had been when rain was still of low toxicity and safe to run around in. I remember it had been raining for days, and when it finally stopped, me and my sister ran out into the lawn and played in the grass. It was still dewey and wet. I had since forgotten what exactly we did, but the feeling still stuck. It had been the happiest I had ever been.

And then, of course, the years passed by and Russia finally snapped and bombed us into oblivion, only leaving behind a couple hundred million of us in America with no government. But we all knew that story.

Blood used to scare me when I was younger. It used to trigger back old memories whenever I saw it. Maybe that was why the memory of me and my sister playing in the dewey grass was held so near and dear to my heart; it was a better memory to replay than the last one I had of her.

Of course, I eventually got over it. It turned out my sister was not going to be the last person I'd see shed blood. There was no point in dwelling on it.

"Let's burn him," Sapnap said with a sinister grin. A lighter was already lit in his hand.

"We burnt the last guy," I replied, taking the lighter from his hand. "Let's just shoot him. I'm tired."

Sapnap rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go for it."

I pulled the gun out from my belt and pushed open the door stood before us. Inside was today's case. I think his name was Phil, but I had barely looked at the file. He was laying down on the broken military cot that held so many people before him, and he lifted his head as the door squeaked open. He pushed himself up to his feet.

"Listen, you got the wrong guy. I didn't do anything wrong," The guy said.

"The amount of times I've heard that statement. I'm sick of hearing those same last words," I sighed as I made sure my gun was loaded. "There are about a hundred other people who had the same last words, so I'll let you change them."

His eyes widened. "You have to believe me. I didn't do anything. Please, just let me go home. I won't leave the house ever again."

I looked to Sapnap, who was close behind me, and he shook his head.

I turned back to the guy, and he had his arms up in a surrender stance. "Sorry, man. We're just doing our job, okay? Go ahead and say your last words. Make them good." I pointed my gun up to his head.

His eyes were stricken wide. His entire body trembled as he took a step back. I could tell he had something to say. His mouth was open despite no words coming out. My patience was beginning to run thin.

"Come on!" I snapped, and he flinched.

"I-I—" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for you."

My finger on the trigger didn't move as I stared up at the man. "What—?"

 _Bang._ Ear splitting ringing screamed through my head as my gun fell to the ground at the same time as the guy. Familiar crimson liquid began running through the wooden floorboards and between the crevices. I whipped around to see Sapnap spinning his gun around his finger.

"What the fuck, Nick?" I yelled, covering my ears as I walked past him and out the door. I walked down the broken down hallway, turning left and right and up the stairs until we got to our floor. My hearing didn't come back until we were back in our room. I pushed the door open and sat down on my cot.

"He was playing mind games with you, Dream," He said, dropping his gun down on the counter by the door. "You weren't going to shoot him, so I did it for you."

"No, I was going to." I slipped my thick black coat off and dropped it carelessly down on the floor as I removed my gloves. "I just wanted to know what he meant."

"Who cares? He was going to talk you out of killing him." He grabbed the file from the desk between our cots. "Anyway, let's get this up to Techno and tell him _I_ got the kill." He winked with a smile.

"Whatever, let's go." I got back up to my feet after taking off my heavy set boots and led Sapnap out of the room in my black socks.

The apartment complex looked aged, which made sense as it had been around longer than I had been. At this point, it was all I ever knew. Sometimes I wondered if it hadn't actually aged and that I had just grown up. That maybe the ugly brown wallpaper had always been peeling off, and I had just been too small and childish to take notice.

I used to also carve into the boards on the windows. The carvings were faded now, but still visible. I always looked at them whenever I walked down the hallway. _Dream!_ Would always be the first one I'd find. _And Sapnap :)_ would always be the next. After that would just be little carvings here and there of smiley faces and inappropriate symbols I'd always blame Sapnap for whenever Techno or Wilbur caught me.

"Dreamy! We heard the shot. Sounded like a good one," Fundy said as we reached the bottom of the stairwell and entered the lobby. He was playing cards on the floor with his friend. Her back was facing us, and when he greeted us, she gave us both a quick glance.

"Sapnap took the kill," I said.

"Yeah I did," Sapnap grinned. "Dream chickened out."

"I did not."

"Nope, I'm not even going to argue. We both know what happened."

Fundy laughed, "You guys taking the file up now?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I won't hold you back. Oh, and Dream—" His eyes flickered to me and down at Niki's cards. I leaned over her shoulder and down at her cards.

"Whatever she's been saying to you, she's bluffing."

"Clay!" She gasped, facing her cards away from me.

I shrugged, glancing over at all the gears and trinkets in the middle. "Shouldn't have bet on everything. You know how Fundy is. He'll find a way to cheat out of everything. We'll see you guys later."

"See ya," Fundy replied as we walked out the broken automatic doors.

Techno and Wilbur didn't stay in the apartment building with us. Apparently being the lead Specialties meant being too good to sleep with the rest of us. Give a guy a bit of power, and they just take it all and leave, right? Right.

They, instead, stayed in the neighborhood across the street. They had decided on the three-story house to stay in. Sapnap and I had once asked if we could live with them. We _were_ the top killers in the group, after all. There had to be enough room for two more people. They were quick to deny us.

I never thought about why they needed to have a house as big as the one they stayed at just for the two of them. This was Post-Apocalyptic America. The economy fell years ago. Nobody cared about how big the house you ransacked was. They were too busy thinking about themselves and their own means of survival.

The neighborhood was run down, but you could still tell this was, at one point, a nice upper-class neighborhood. Most of the windows were bashed in or boarded up, and the vast majority of them didn't have doors anymore. But nevertheless, it was still a gated community and the houses were all modernized and boxy with two or three stories.

It was easy to remember which house was their's. Not only was their home number 46290, but it also had the words " **Don't you fucking dare"** painted in bold red paint on their garage door.

"I think I'm better than you, Dream. Unlike you, I don't fall for their tricks."

I gave Sapnap a sideways look, "Oh wow you kill one person. Yeah you're definitely an expert now."

"Oh be honest, Dream. That guy would have still been alive if it wasn't for me. I bet he would have had you distracted long enough to take your gun and kill you."

"I wasn't distracted."

I wasn't gullible. Maybe I hadn't been to actual school since the second grade, but I wasn't an idiot. I knew when someone was trying to fool me. It's all in the way they talk. They talk slowly, making sure you retain every syllable. Their eyes shift around the room as they come up with what to say next. They either overdo the delivery or make it sound as fake as possible. But this guy didn't do that. The emotion in his voice, the shake as he knew those were going to be his dying words. The fact that he didn't even blink as he stared me dead in the eyes. The stare was almost haunting.

We approached the house with the thick red paint on the garage and Sapnap banged on the door. "It's Sapnap and Dream, open up!"

The shuffling and murmuring in the hallways grew louder before the doorknob turned and the door opened. Wilbur towered over us, his diminished eyes seemingly looking right through us. Wasn't he just a sight for sore eyes? It was as if he had just rolled right out of bed only seconds prior, and just for us. How sweet. His bedhead was hidden under his yellow beanie, which did not match his black collared sweater and black slacks at all. It stood out like the sun before the sky had become swept with dusty red smog.

"We got him," Sapnap said with a wide grin. "Well, I did."

"It was a team effort, Sap," I said.

"Dream, be a dear and let me have this one."

Wilbur shook his head and shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Boys, stop."

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

He took the file from Sapnap's hands and opened it. "Just stressed. I've been up all night with Techno on night watch again." His eyes scanned through the papers.

"No more Russians, right?" Sapnap sneered.

Wilbur gave him a tired glare that caused Sapnap to shrink. "The Russians got everything they wanted from us years ago, Nick. If I hear one more joke about the Russians, your name will be on this file next, you understand?" He waved the file in front of us.

"Yessir," Sapnap mumbled.

"Now," Wilbur pressed on. "The kill went smoothly? They didn't make it any more difficult than it needed to be?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

Sapnap laughed, "He said something about being sorry for us."

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah, it doesn't really make sense now that I think about it," I said. "We've honestly got it better off than the commons. A lot of commons don't even have a place to live. They're all scavengers."

"Maybe that's who he meant," Wilbur said. "Did you tell him you guys are specialties?"

I looked to Sapnap, and he said, "No, but when you have two guns pointing at your face, I would assume you would put two and two together."

Wilbur rubbed his eyes. I didn't even think he was paying attention anymore as he let out a loud yawn.

"We can take night watch tonight," I offered. "Right Sapnap?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Better than watching Fundy and Karl argue over DND again for eight hours."

"No, no. You guys are training the trainees tonight."

"Then we'll just take them with us. Best way to learn is to jump right in, right?" I said.

"I suppose." Wilbur tapped the doorframe in an odd rhythm. "Alright, but I'll be asking them about it tomorrow. Don't go trying to pull any schemes because I will hear about it." He pointed the file at both me and Sapnap before grabbing the door. "Night watch starts tonight at eight. Bad and Skeppy will be watching over the slums. You two just have to watch over the neighborhood and apartments, okay? Can I trust you two?"

"Of course you can. Even if you can't trust me, Dream'll be there." Sapnap wrapped his arm over my shoulder and gave Wilbur that wide cheesy smile that always got him what he wanted.

With an eye roll and a shake of his head, Wilbur said, "Fine. Be on the lookout. I'm putting a lot of trust in you guys."

Both Sapnap and I nodded. "No need to worry."

Wilbur shut the door and as Sapnap and I turned on our heels to leave, I looked up at the dusty red sky. The sun barely shone through the thick crimson clouds, but I could see the small rays of it trying to pry its way through. Judging by where the clouds were the lightest, I could tell that it was almost dusk.


	2. ||Night Watch||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night has fallen and Dream and Sapnap are out to pursue their duties as tonight's Night Watch with their two trainees. However, things don't quite go as planned when a gunshot fills the air.

I had only sat on the top of the apartment building once before. It was when I was ten years old. The day I had lost my whole family in a matter of an hour, I found myself at the top. Not necessarily to jump, but to look down at the view. To see where I came from. The slums out in the distance, constantly restless as the remaining survivors scavenged for food or any true hope of survival. The neighborhood across the street that'd be familiar to my new home. I had never gotten to see a grand scale of where I had grown up, and when I did, I never went up to see it again.

And eight years later—right back where I had stood when I was only a child— nothing had changed. Every so often, I'd look out to the slums in the far distance. Acres upon acres of crowded box-like houses. I couldn't make out the specific details as it was barely an outline. There were no stars in the sky to shine down and bring any sort of light to the grounds, leaving it totally dark. However, every so often I'd see some sort of light shine from the slums. It was always brief, probably a flashlight. It moved in erratic directions in the sky before disappearing deep in the depths of all the poor run down houses.

"This is so boring," The trainee next to me groaned. I tore my eyes away from the slums and over to him. The flashlight being held between his legs illuminated his fluffy blond hair that fell just above his eyes. As he took a bite of his sandwich, his blue eyes traveled up to me.

"Just eat," I said.

"Why did you drag us out here?" He continued.

"Wilbur made us."

"Well, we offered," Sapnap corrected. "But he would've said no if we didn't bring you two."

"Well this is so fucking boring."

"Well, I guess since nothing's happening right now, we can train you guys." Sapnap pointed his flashlight straight into my eyes, and I squinted.

"Yeah, we could." I held my hand up to block out the light. Sapnap dropped his flashlight and pulled himself off the ledge where we all sat and down on the solid floor of the concrete rooftop. Our trainees followed suit.

"Have you guys come up with code names yet?" Asked Sapnap as I continued to gaze out over the slums. If only we got assigned over there. Maybe more would be happening.

"No," One trainee said.

"Yes," Said the other.

"What is it?"

"Tubbo." I turned to see who said that. Sapnap's blinding light was pointing to the young boy with brunet hair. The light later fell on the blond boy who was taller than the both of them.

"What's your name again?"

"Tommy," He said as he continued to munch on his sandwich.

"Alright—" He turned his light to me. "Clay, get over here."

"Clay?" Tommy looked over at me with a smile as I stepped off the ledge and approached the three of them. "His name's Clay?"

"Don't call me that," I shook my head. "You barely know me."

"I didn't know his name until we got in so much trouble that Wilbur shouted our real names throughout the entire apartment building," Sapnap laughed. I still remembered that day. For years before then, the only people who knew my name were Techno and Wilbur. It was like my own secret. The last I had of my own identity. And Wilbur took it all away just because Sapnap and I tried throwing Fundy off the fire escape when we were thirteen. Don't ask for context. The fact that it was Fundy explains enough. "I don't get why it's such a big deal. It's just your name."

I shrugged it off. "Dream's a cooler name."

"Clay's a cool name too," Tubbo said. "It can be made into cool nicknames like pot or ceramic bowl or something."

Tommy laughed, and it echoed out throughout the empty night sky. I wrapped my jacket tighter around me as a sudden gust of wind brushed past, flipping my hood right over my head. A shiver ran viciously throughout my body.

"Have you guys gotten guns yet?" I asked.

"Yeah, we did," Tommy said with a malicious grin. That was reassuring. I held out my hand.

"Give it."

"What? Why?"

"Give it," I repeated before snatching it from his hand. I pulled out the magazine and it was just as I expected; it was loaded. I poured the bullets into my hand. "I am not about to trust you with a loaded gun."

"Why not?"

"Because this is probably your first time holding one. I don't need any of us winding up dead." I pocketed the handful of bullets in my hand and returned the gun.

"Sapnap, empty Tubbo's gun," I ordered. "Tommy," I said as Sapnap placed his flashlight down, leaving only his and Tubbo's feet in the light. I flicked on my flashlight and pointed it at the teenage boy before me. "Why are you here?"

The boy scowled, "What do you mean? We were dragged out here."

I rolled my eyes, "Not _here._ Why are you a Specialty?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. We had no other place to go. My mom and dad disappeared one day, and Tubbo's parents died by a gang ambush. That one guy—Wilbur was it?— He saw us alone in the slums one night and took us in."

I nodded slowly, "Okay."

"What about you?"

"My story doesn't matter. I grew up here. That's it." I pulled out my own gun and took out the bullets.

"My parents sold me," Sapnap said. Oh no, this wasn't going to end well. "When I was twelve, my family got mugged, and they couldn't afford to take care of me. So they sold me to Techno, and he, in turn, gave them everything they'd need to survive."

"Oh," Mumbled Tubbo.

"It's fine. Isn't that all any of us are? We're just tools used for survival. Techno uses us to do all his dirty work."

I pointed my light at Sapnap, and he squinted at the blinding light as he pushed the magazine back into the pistol. "If you don't like it, you can always leave, Nick. Can you blame Techno for being a little paranoid? Look around. Look at our friends. All our families are gone, whether they're dead or not. We don't have a government. There could be spies literally anywhere. He's just trying to protect the little amount of commons we have left."

"I know, I know. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like we're actually helping anybody. We've been doing this for almost ten years and nothing's changed."

"Nothing _can_ change. We are literally a failed state. All we can really do is wait it out until we all just die from the radiation."

He turned away from me, flicking his flashlight off. Tubbo pointed his to him just as he left the rooftop, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Is he okay?" Asked Tubbo.

"Yeah. It's unhealthy to dwell on the things you can't change, and Sapnap does it all the time." I pushed the magazine back into my gun.

"Are we really going to die?" Asked Tommy.

"Everybody's going to die, Tommy. We're living in the Post-Apocalyptic Era. We should have already died."

"So what's the point in living?"

"The point of living has never changed. For as long as mankind has been around, the point of living has always been to survive as long as possible like some sort of sick competition; we live to survive longer than the person next to us. That's all there's really left to do."

Tommy's frown deepened, and I turned on my heel and stood back on the ledge. The wind blew through my thick, messy, dirty blond hair. There was no light in the sky. No stars, no moon, nothing. Nothing except reddish black clouds that blocked out any natural source of light we could have. I gazed down at the sleeping neighborhood across the street. I pointed my flashlight to it, and I could barely make out some of the houses. They were all grouped up close together like any other basic suburban neighborhood.

"Clay—"

"Don't call me that, what did I tell you?" I snapped, "Dream. My codename is Dream, and that's what you're supposed to refer to me as."

"So how come Sapnap doesn't?"

"Because he's Sapnap. He's different." I sat back down.

I really didn't feel like training today. My mind drew back to earlier today. Usually when I kill somebody, that was it. No lingering guilt, no looking back, no regrets. It was business—my career. The only other thing I get to do with my life aside from surviving. But this time was different. This time stuck to me like a leech, and I didn't know where it was.

I had heard so many final words before. Most of them were pleading; begging for me to believe them when they say that they did nothing wrong. There were some outliers telling me to get it over with; others were willing to take the bullet. But never had somebody ever said they were sorry for me. I couldn't name anybody else who had not one, but _two_ guns, to their face that would still say they were sorry for _me_.

"You alright there, Big Man?" Tommy had asked me, sitting down next to me.

"You will do anything to just not call me Dream, huh?"

He laughed, "Sorry, but we're supposed to be training right now. That's all me and Tubbo are looking forward to."

I let out a heavy sigh, "Fine." I grabbed my gun and said, "Point your flashlights at me, both of you."

Tubbo sat down on the other side of me and pointed his flashlight at me. My eye burned at all the blinding light pointing at me after hours of darkness. My hands grabbed onto the pistol with ease—almost like second nature. I pointed it out ahead of me into the deep crimson night sky.

"Alright, you don't want to be too tense. You see the way I'm holding it?" I showed them both, and they stared like I was some magician or entertainer. "It's pretty straight forward. Just grip it and put your first finger on the trigger." I watched them both grab their guns. They were both naturals.

"Alright, you guys look good. Now, what's your dominant hands?"

They both lifted up their right hands.

"You use your dominant eye—which is usually the same side as your dominant hand—to aim. Look, you align your sight with these sights right here—" I ran my finger over the two sights on the top of the gun. "And you look into them. Don't look at your target, okay?"

"Why not?" Asked Tubbo.

"Helps you aim more accurately. You want to focus on this front sight right here." I pointed to it. I lifted my gun and aimed out into the distance directly in front of me.

A loud gunshot cracked through the quiet night air, and I fell back off the ledge and down on the rooftop. Tommy and Tubbo both shot up to their feet and scrambled to find each other as their flashlights flew off the edge. Tommy started screaming out profanity as Tubbo sputtered out what sounded like pure gibberish.

"Calm down, _calm down!_ " I shouted over the sudden overload of noise. Climbing up to my feet, I pointed my flashlight at the both of them. For two boys who grew up surrounded by guns and murder, they looked as if this were their first time hearing the crack of a gunshot.

"What was that?" Tubbo asked. He was trembling in his boots as he clung to his friend.

"It came from the houses across the street," I replied. "The slums are too far. It wouldn't have been so loud if it was from there. I'll go see what happened."

Before either of them could interject, I had thrown open the door and started my way down the stairwell. I heard them fumble along close behind.

"Are we going to die?" Tommy asked through hysteric fits of laughter. "Because listen, Dream, I know I said some things up there, but I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to die. I'll go investigate. You two can either go back to your room or go find Sapnap. He's probably in our room. It's number sixteen. Knock twice, wait a moment, then knock three times and he should let you in." We hit the bottom of the stairwell and I pointed my flashlight at them. They remained still, staring up at me like tragic little kittens. "Or you guys could come with me if it'll help you sleep at night?"

"Yeah, we'll stick with you, Big Man. You look like you know what you're doing."

With the roll of my eyes, I threw the hood of my jacket over my head. "Stay behind me at all times. If anything happens to me, either run to Techno and Wilbur, or run back here and get Sapnap, you understand me? This is serious."

They both nodded quickly and nudged me forward. As I was about to push open the front apartment doors, there was a scramble from above our heads. All at once, the rest of the Specialties came down. Worried eyes and several flashlights all drew their attention to the three of us.

"What happened!?" Karl cried from the front of the crowd.

"We're about to check it out. Just go back to sleep," I said.

"I leave for five seconds!" Sapnap exclaimed from beside him.

"I got it under control. I'm going to take Tommy and Tubbo with me to the neighborhood and investigate." I pulled out my gun and reloaded the bullets into it. "Just go back to bed. If anything happens, these two will go get Sapnap."

"Alright, I'll be with Karl. You guys know the knock?" Sapnap asked, and Tommy and Tubbo shook their heads.

"Nah just screech," Karl said. "I might be asleep and won't hear the knock."

I pushed open the doors. "We really have to get going."

"Be safe," Fundy said, scratching his red bedhead.

I walked the two boys out into the night, my flashlight the only source of light left. We could barely see even a few feet ahead of us, and there was not even a hint of noise in the cold air aside from the ringing in my ears and the crunch of the dirt and rocks beneath our feet. Occasionally there would be a gust of wind that would whisper past my ears.

As we reached Wilbur and Techno's house, both men came into view. Apparently someone had actually fucking dared as one of the windows of the house was shattered. Both men stood before it, Wilbur's face in his hands. Techno had his hands in the pockets of his dark navy blue jeans as he stared at the shattered pieces of glasses scattered at their feet.

"What happened?" I asked, looking between the both of them.

"Someone broke in," Techno said. "Oh, and I accidentally shot the window." Wilbur jerked around to us and marched towards us. I took a step back, and Tommy and Tubbo followed.

"I trusted you and Nick. All you had to do was watch the neighborhood and the apartments. How could you fail such a simple task like that?" Wilbur lectured, his voice low and forceful. Tubbo grabbed onto my arm and squeezed.

"Look, I'm sorry. We weren't paying attention. I was teaching Tommy and Tubbo how to use a gun."

"Well now our documents are gone. We need those documents, Clay. If they end up in the wrong hands—which they probably did—America is going to somehow reach a state below rock bottom."

"As long as it didn't end up with the Russians, we're fine. Did you see who broke in?"

"I did," Techno cut in. "Just some white boy. I tried to shoot him, but he was too quick."

Wilbur shook his head and looked back to me. "Look, this was your responsibility. Had you been watching like I had asked, none of this would have happened. Therefore, you have to get the documents back."

"But we don't even know who did it."

"I have a description of him," Techno said. "Brown hair, brown eyes, and skinny."

My eyes flickered between the two of them. "You sure you didn't just see Wilbur?" I asked. Tommy laughed behind me, and both Techno and Wilbur glared until he shrank behind me.

"Yes, because there is one thing that sets him apart from everyone else," Techno said. "He has clout goggles."

"Clout goggles?" Wilbur's asked, turning back around to Techno.

I raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck are clout goggles?"

"Oh, my God," Techno groaned. "Thick white sunglasses. Find him and kill him."

"Whoa! That's a little extreme, isn't it?" Tubbo interjected. "Why not just take the documents back?"

"It's just extra measures to make sure the information in those papers don't get out."

"Alright. Find him, kill him, get the papers back. Sounds easy. I could get it done tomorrow no problem."

"Thank you, Clay. And where's Nick? He can come with you."

"He's with Karl." I gave him a knowing look.

Wilbur grimaced, "Understood. Now you three rest. Techno and I can take it from here."


	3. ||So Smile||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream goes undercover to find the culprit with the government papers isn't quite how he expected him to be.

My favorite missions were always the undercover ones. The ones where didn't have to wear the thick black trench coat and choking black turtle neck that came with it. I hated how Wilbur made us wear a uniform. The least he could do was make it something we could breathe in, but apparently looking good was more important than feeling good.

I took advantage of the fact that this was the rare occasion where I got to choose what I wore. I got to wear my loose white t-shirt and navy blue jeans with my converse. It was the only outfit I owned aside from the Specialty uniform, but it was still more comfy to wear in the heat than multiple layers of thick, all black clothes.

I had just slipped my gun into my belt and covered it with my shirt when there were two knocks at my door followed by a brief pause and three more knocks. There he was. I walked my way across the small apartment and pulled open the door. Sapnap stood before me with messy bedhead and the clothes he wore the night before.

"Ah look who's finally back after ditching me during night watch," Sapnap rolled his eyes with a smile and walked right passed me. He immediately went through our cupboards in search for any crumb of food.

"I was going to come back, but then you said to just go back to bed."

"You couldn't just come back here?"

He smirked and glanced over at me. "Oh right, I forgot. Baby Dreamy over here's afraid of sleeping alone."

My heart paused, and my eyes widened as I cleared my throat and crossed my arms as I felt my face burn red. "I am not."

He laughed, "Yes, you are! You are the only person here who's never lived alone."

"That doesn't mean I can't sleeping alone."

"Alright. I'll stay the week over at Karl's then. You can sleep alone."

"Fine." My voice cracked as I watched Sapnap rummage through the empty soup cans before finding a fresh one that was not spoiled. He looked at me and sighed.

"I'm sorry," He said, placing the can on the counter.

"I'm not afraid of sleeping alone," I muttered, gazing down at my worn out blue converse shoes. They had holes in them and didn't even look all that blue anymore, but they were the only pair of shoes I had aside from the heavy set boots I did not feel like walking in today.

"Dude, I didn't mean it. I'll be back here tonight."

"I don't care. Do whatever you want." I turned away from him and started out the door. "I have an assignment. I'll see you later."

"Wait, can I come?"

"No, I need to clear my head."

Sapnap looked like he wanted to say more. He kept staring at me with his mouth half-open before he leaned back against the counter and nodded. "Alright, bye."

I shut the door behind me. Down the hall, Fundy and Niki emerged from their apartment. Fundy was suited up in his all-black Specialty suit with his cotton black turtle neck and thick trenchcoat. It wasn't all black, though. He had somehow stitched color along the inner edges.

Niki was lucky. She was a common and never had to get dressed in our uniform. The only reason she was here was because she and Fundy had been best friends for basically their entire lives. They were raised as brother and sister, and he wasn't going to leave her behind just because he was chosen to become a Specialty. She wrapped his jacket tighter around her body as she said, "Why's it so cold in here?"

"Niki, it could be one hundred degrees in here and you'd still be cold," Fundy replied before turning around and grinning when he saw me.

"Hey Dream! Is today your day off?" He asked as he and Niki approached me.

"No, I'm going undercover."

"Ah. Well you got home safe, I see. What happened last night?"

"Someone broke into Wilbur and Techno's place and stole some important documents."

Both Fundy and Niki's eyes widened.

"I have to get the papers back," I continued.

"That sounds serious," Said Fundy. "Really serious."

"Yeah, it kind of is."

"Who broke in?" Asked Niki.

I shrugged. "Some guy in clout goggles."

Fundy cocked his head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows. "Clout goggles?"

"I don't know. It's these sunglasses things." I ran a hand through my thick mess of hair. "Techno called them clout goggles. Anyway, I should get going. I told them I'd have the job done today and the slums are pretty far."

"Hold on, you're going alone?"

"I can handle myself, Fundy."

"Well yeah, I know but..." He trailed off and dropped his gaze down to his feet. "The slums can get crazy, man."

I sighed and forced myself to relax for just a brief moment. I never had good memories in the slums. None of us did. All the commons there were crazy. They had gone full savage mode over there and would do anything to survive. Fundy still had the scars dating as far back as the first time he had gone there as a Specialty. That was why he never wore short sleeve shirts anymore despite it always being hot out.

"I'll be fine. It'll be real quick. I'll be back by sundown," I reassured, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly until he glanced up at me with his large almond brown eyes.

"And if you're not?"

"Don't even think about the what if. I'm guaranteed to be back tonight." I pushed past him. "But if it makes you feel better, if I'm not back by sundown, I give you and Sapnap permission to go after me." At the foot of the stairs, I looked back over to them, and they were staring back. "Okay, Fundy?"

He nodded. "Okay. See ya, Dream."

"Bye, Clay," Niki added with a wave. "We'll see you when you get back."

I waved back briefly as I walked down the stairs. Bad and Skeppy sat at the bottom of the stairs talking and eating muffins Bad most likely made. Whatever Bad had said must have been hilarious as Skeppy let out a loud high pitched laugh as I stepped between them.

"Morning, Dream," Bad had said through a soft laugh. "Care for a muffin?" He held out a chocolate chip muffin, and I gladly took it. It was kind of hard, but it was overall not bad. He never made a bad muffin.

"Where are you going?" He asked me as I reached for the door.

"Undercover at the slums."

"Ah, okay. Stay safe, Dream. Skeppy almost got in a fight with a common last night."

"I'll be fine. I always am," I replied as I pushed the door open with my back and walked out into the blazing heat.

***

The way to the slums was a long walk. One I never timed it to the dot but knew it had to have been a forty-five-minute walk at _least._ What made the walk even worse was that, unlike the night, it was hot. I wasn't quite sure how the climate worked, but Wilbur told me it had something to do with the already reactive clouds getting heat up by the sun, which traps the heat into the Earth, and then at night the clouds cool down and there's nothing to heat up the lands, which causes it to freeze. I wasn't sure how accurate he truly was, but that was a better explanation than the Earth trying every day to blow itself up to end all our misery before giving up when the sun set every evening like Techno had told me.

I hadn't even arrived at the slums yet when I came across the first person in miles. It was hard to miss them. Not just because we were in the middle of a desert where there was nothing except flatlands of sand and dirt and the slums in the distance of one direction and the apartment and neighborhood in the other. He also had a huge backpack on with white sunglasses hanging off the handle.

I approached him slowly, reaching for my gun as I did so. This was going to be easier than I thought. He wasn't even paying attention; his head was hung down as he sat in the middle of the hot desert, his back to me. Right as I was about to pull my gun out, he looked over his shoulder.

"Hey!" He climbed up to his feet, almost falling back from his backpack. I looked him over. Short cut, fluffy, messy brunet hair, mocha eyes that lightened under the sun. His tattered shirt was a faded blue with rough dirt marks and ragged edges. The knees of his jeans had holes in them as well as his untied, worn-out sneakers. He smiled at me. That smile. Why did it seem so—

"I'm George," He interrupted my thoughts, holding out his hands.

I raised my eyebrows. "You're real quick to trust me."

"Do I have a reason not to?"

Hesitating, I let go of my gun and grabbed his hand. "I guess not."

"What's your name?"

My first instinct was to say my code name, but I was undercover and that would raise suspicion. Nobody was named _Dream._ I had to say a fake name, but he was waiting. I decided to count to three and say the first name to pop in my head. _One, two, three,_ "Clay." Wait, that was my real name.

"Clay." He stared at me, his hand gripping mine tighter. "Clay. That's a nice name. What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I could ask you the same question." I eyed the book in his other hand. He let go of mine.

"The slums are so loud! I mean, I suppose, mulling over it now, it would've been better to stay over there. Maybe then I could get out of the heat, right?"

"Yeah." I swayed back and forth.

"Why are you here?"

"Oh—uh—" I gazed down at my feet, and I became a bit too aware that I had a loaded gun on me. "Me too. In the slums, you don't really get a lot of time to just sit and think."

"Yeah! You get me." His smile brought his mocha eyes out. I never thought brown eyes could stand out as much as his did.

"What's that book in your hand?" I asked, pointing to the dirty old book in his right hand.

"It's a poetry book," George replied, glancing down at it and flipping quickly through the pages. He landed on a random page and read from it. "The only thing brighter than the stars is a smile." He shut the book and looked back up at me. "So smile!"

I shook my head. "A smile is only as bright as the person holding it."

He laughed softly, "A smile doesn't measure your intelligence, Clay. That's just silly."

My heart seemed to stop the moment he said my name. It slipped off his tongue so easily, and he said it in such a pleasant way. Usually when I heard my name, it was Wilbur telling me to go to bed or to stop pointing my gun at other Specialty members (although sometimes they deserved it).

Clay. Did it always sound so nice?

"You have pretty eyes," He said. I realized how close we actually were. We were so close I thought he could hear my thoughts, and I took a step back. "They match the sun."

"But my eyes are green?"

"Oh, are they?" He laughed again, stepping closer and staring me in the eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry, my bad. Nevertheless, they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and your soul is so striking."

"Oh." My face burnt red, and I was thankful when he turned around and took a few steps away from me.

"I like you, Clay. Why have I not seen you around here before?"

"I-I try staying on the down-low," I quickly replied. "Are those clout goggles?" I pointed to the white sunglasses hanging off his backpack. I could not have the right guy. Even if he fit the description perfectly, I didn't even know if I was looking at clout goggles. They could just so happen to be white sunglasses like Techno described. He turned back to me and slipped off his bag.

"Oh! Yeah, they are." He slid the pair on and smiled. "How do I look?"

"How do you see out of those?"

"It's really easy, just a bit tinted." He slipped them off and looked over them. "Try it." Before I could interject, he slid the glasses over my eyes. He was right. It was just a bit tinted.

"Have you never worn sunglasses before?" He asked.

"No, but I've heard of them." I handed the clout goggles back.

"Oh. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Oh, you're only a year younger than me. My dad loved collecting old things, so maybe that's why I know what these are. He gave these to me when I was six or seven, maybe."

"Where's your dad now?"

"Oh," He slipped the clout goggles back on. His smile faded away. "He and my mom aren't around anymore."

My eyes widened and my heart palpitated. I was such an idiot. Of course they were dead. No parents in their right mind would let their teenage son out all alone. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay! How were you supposed to know, right? They died when I was, like, twelve. I've been on my own ever since."

I frowned. "That sucks."

He shrugged. "At first it did, but it's okay. Everything will be okay."

I couldn't help but scoff at that statement. I had heard that statement so many times. "Yeah, alright."

"No, everything will be."

"I've been telling myself that for ten years, George. I'll believe it when I see it."

"And someday you will." He looked at his watch on his right wrist. "I should get going. Specialties come out around this time."

"How do you know that?" I didn't even know we had an assigned time to come out. We usually just came out when we woke up. I looked down at his watch. It was about ten-thirty.

"I watch. They all wear the same thing. I just noticed I see them more often a little after this time. Just a pro tip for you. We should go back to the slums. We don't want to stand out too much."

"Actually, I want to stay here a little longer." I sat down.

"Okay, well I should really get going." The tone of his voice changed. It shook slightly and he talked faster. He did a three-sixty scan of the area and took a deep breath. "It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope our paths meet again, but if not, then this is a warm wish-you-well and goodbye."

I shook my head. "I'll make sure our paths meet again," I said as he started walking back to the slums.

He smiled. "I'll see you soon then, Clay."

I watched as he walked away. What just happened? Did I really let him go? I had one job, and it was to kill him. He was alone with no weapons. He wouldn't have fought back. He couldn't fight back. A gun versus a fist was a battle I had fought many times before, and each and every time the gun won. And yet all he had to do was say "hey" and he got away without even trying.

Maybe Sapnap was right. Maybe I was easily fooled. Had I just brought him with me, George would be dead at my feet. But then again, maybe it was a good thing I didn't bring him then.


	4. ||A Second Chance||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a failed attempt to kill George, Dream tries to get their paths to meet again through the night shift.

The stagnant, dusty, red air was interrupted by the brutal firing of a gun as I approached the apartments. Sometimes I wished they'd give a warning. It was astonishing how none of the Specialty members had gone deaf over the years with all the sudden gunshots constantly heard from the garages. As I passed by one of them, Bad and Skeppy had just walked out, and when Bad saw me, he waved with a wide smile that looked far from one of a killer.

"Hey Dream!" He said. "Back already?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm pretty tired," I shrugged. "I assume you guys just completed your mission?"

They both nodded, and Skeppy said, "Too bad we'll never know his last words. They were in French."

"French? What's that sound like?"

"Like... oui oui!" Bad said with what I would have to guess was a French accent.

"What what?"

"It means yes. I found this French book in one of the houses in the slums a few years ago. I can still only say basic phrases. Oh! Skeppy, guess what this one means." He cleared his throat and said, "Je t'aime."

Skeppy furrowed his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Bad smiled and dropped his gaze from Skeppy down to the ground between us. Quietly, he said, "It means 'I love you'."

"Oh," Skeppy mumbled before cracking a grin and laughing. "What? Did you learn that just for me?"

Bad laughed softly and nudged the shorter boy. "No, it's basic French, Skeppy."

"So do you know what that guy said?" I asked, getting the strong feeling I wasn't supposed to be there.

"No. Like I said, I only know a few words and phrases, and I have no idea what that guy said. He said it too fast."

"Well it went something like 'tune it back and you pause it,'" Skeppy added.

"What the heck does that mean?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I don't know. Either way, it doesn't matter. That's between him and the Heavens above now." He grabbed Bad's wrist and brought him to the apartment, and I followed.

"I'm exhausted," Bad complained as we entered the lobby. "And we have to do the night shift _again."_

My ears perked up and I glanced between the both of them as I said, "Why don't Sapnap and I do it? Are you guys going to the slums?"

"Ohhh no," Bad said, looking over his shoulder to me and giving me a stern look. "Wilbur and Techno would never let you. Not after last night."

I could see the moment a light bulb went off in Skeppy's head. The corners of his dark brown eyes wrinkled with a laugh. His face was split into a mischievous grin that only really appeared when he had an idea Bad would never agree to. "What if we don't tell them? They're not going to be awake, they've got Eret and Punz doing night watch over here. We'll check out with Wilbur and Techno at eight and then Dream and Sapnap can take the night shift!"

"Skeppy, we're going to get into huge trouble if we get caught—"

Skeppy held his hand up to stop Bad before he could finish. "Simple solution: Just don't get caught."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Hopefully it won't be as boring as yesterday."

"Oh it won't be," Skeppy said. "Total chaos out there, man. Just the way you like it."

I nodded, "Alright. I'll go let Sapnap know then."

Their room—room fourteen—was right next door to mine and Sapnap's—room sixteen. Because of that, we didn't actually say goodbye until we got to our rooms.

When I entered the apartment, I was immediately greeted with laughter, and when I looked inside, Sapnap was playing cards with Tommy and Tubbo. My entrance wasn't discrete, per se. Our door, when moved by a mere inch, had a loud squeal that could wake up the entire apartment building. The moment I pushed the door open by an inch, Sapnap's gaze shot up to me.

None of them were in uniform. Sapnap was in his white shirt that he always wore over his black hoodie and black track pants. He never did his hair in the first place, but today it was a mess. Like he purposely messed it up thinking it'd look good but it ended up looking like a tangled mess.

Tommy was in a thin t-shirt that looked like it had seen far more than a person would see in their whole lifetime. It was faded so much I wasn't even sure what color it was supposed to be. I wasn't sure if the light brown color was the original color or if it was dirt. His jeans were a faded baby blue, and his knees were so faded it was recolored white. His shoes were barely fulfilling their original purpose. Tubbo wasn't looking much better. His shirt was missing multiple buttons as well as one of the sleeves.

Just looking at the two boys made me wonder what they actually went through before landing themselves here. When I first came, I was still pretty intact. I had a few cuts and bruises, but aside from that I was fine. Sapnap looked perfectly fine as well. I had never seen two boys who looked like they went through an entire war in one look until now.

"Dream! You're back already?" Sapnap asked, cocking his head to the side. Tommy and Tubbo turned to me and copied his mannerisms. They were impressionable. That was just perfect.

"I'm tired, man," I replied, pulling my gun out and tossing it carelessly onto the counter. "Stayed up all night last night and woke up early today. Oh, we're taking the night shift tonight. Bad and Skeppy are tired."

Sapnap's eyes flickered over my shoulder, "Really? They trust us after last night?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, I haven't told them."

"Then maybe you should." I jumped from the unexpected low voice behind me, and when I turned around, Wilbur was there leaning against the doorframe. "Maybe then you'd learn that no, Techno and I do not trust you two on Night Watch."

He looked better than the last time I saw him. He looked like he actually got a few hours of sleep. He had the same uniform as us except he always had to wear a yellow beanie that usually pushed his curly brown hair over his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pushing myself up and sitting on the counter. Wilbur shut the door behind him and approached me slowly. Every footstep resonated in the air. Nobody dared break the silence.

"I came here to talk to you two about last night."

Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other, and when Tommy nodded, they rose to their feet. Wilbur halted them with a simple raise of his hand. "No, no, no. You two stay. You should hear this too. Sapnap, come here."

Judging by Sapnap's eyes, he was frightened. I wasn't. I always thought of it as better Wilbur than Techno. I had been under Wilbur's skin so often it was basically my home now. Intimidation had gone right out the window by the time I turned thirteen.

"Do you two have any idea why we have the night shift?" Wilbur asked.

"To keep watch at night?" I replied.

Wilbur sighed, "No, Dream. It's to keep order and avoid something like this from happening."

"Tommy and Tubbo got bored, though. They also wouldn't shut up."

"It's not just Tommy and Tubbo. You all broke rules last night. Tommy and Tubbo didn't take the job seriously, Sapnap left in the middle of the job, and none of you were watching like you were supposed to." He crossed his arms and glanced between the both of us. After a few additional moments of silence, he said, "Well? Say something."

"We're sorry," Sapnap quickly said.

"I'm not," I shrugged. "I was the only one taking the job seriously. All the others wanted to do was train and shoot things. And yet I'm the one who gets in the most trouble. I was the one who went straight to you and Techno after the gunshot."

Wilbur gave me that disappointed look he always gave me right before telling me the same thing I had been hearing since I was fourteen. "Listen, Dream, the only reason Techno and I are harder on you is because you're the leader. You're the oldest, and you have the most experience. You're destined for great things. One day you could lead things around here. Make it a better place."

"If it's not a better place after ten years, it's never going to get better." I crossed my arms.

Wilbur shook his head, "I promise you, Dream. When Techno and I perish, you're going to take over. And when you do, you're going to fix everything wrong. Maybe not with this entire country, but definitely within this county. But first, you need to learn responsibility."

"I already know responsibility! None of this is my fault!"

"I never said any of this was your fault, Dream. I'm just saying that maybe you can learn from this. All of you can learn from this experience." He looked over my shoulder at Tommy and Tubbo. When the two nodded, his brown eyes pierced through my own green ones, and he said, "You understand?"

I nodded. He turned his attention over to Sapnap beside me.

"Understood?"

"Yeah."

"How are you two doing with the file?" He asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Dream here insists on doing it alone," Sapnap said.

"I thought it was going to be quick," I explained before Wilbur could come at my throat. "It's a bit harder than I expected it to be."

"So you didn't find him?" Wilbur asked.

"Uhh no," I replied, trying my hardest to not tear my eyes away from him. Although every second I spent looking at him, my heart seemed to grow louder in my ears. "I would have kept looking, but I'm kind of tired from last night."

Sapnap rolled his eyes. "Dude, you're always tired."

"Yeah, and you think today's an exception?"

"Boys, don't start," Wilbur said, grabbing Sapnap's wrist and pulling him away from my side. "Tommy, Tubbo, come with me. Give these two a chance to rest."

Tommy and Tubbo rose to their feet and walked across the room. After saying goodbye to us, they left through the door.

Right before Wilbur shut the door, I said, "Wait, does that mean we can do the night shift tonight? We can do the slums. We've done the slums before.

"Well..." He thought about it for a moment. While he did so, I could feel Sapnap's gaze land on me. "Fine. If anything crazy happens again, you two will not hear the end of it, you understand?"

"Yes." I gripped the edge of the counter, my heart slowly beginning to pound as Wilbur said goodbye to us.

The moment the door clicked shut, Sapnap sighed and let go of the tension in his shoulders. He walked back into the studio apartment and laid down on his bed. So many words climbed its way into my mouth. I had never hidden something from Sapnap before. He was always the first person I went to for everything. We both figured that since we were the only people we could trust with our lives, there was no point in hiding anything.

"Ready for the night shift?" I asked, sliding off the counter and walking over to my bed. The playing cards laid scattered on the floor like a game of fifty-two card pick up had just been initiated.

"Not really," He replied. "Why did you ask Wilbur to do it again tonight?"

I shrugged, "Gain their trust back after shattering it last night." I sat down on my bed across from him. His head hung off the side of the bed as his dark eyes stared up at me. The words were there. I knew I had to tell him, and yet I found myself trying to bury the words back down my throat. I couldn't hide it forever, though. Especially if he was coming with me to the slums.

"I found the guy," I whispered, my throat clenching as I did so.

"What?"

I glanced to the door just to make sure nobody was there to surprise me again. It was locked shut.

"I found the guy," I said, slightly louder.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it was definitely not the nonchalant look on his face as he said, "I know."

"What? How?"

He laughed as he sat up straight and said, "Because you're Dream. And you never give up on a mission."

My heart dropped. "So does Wilbur know?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue, and even if he knew, he wouldn't say anything to Techno. This is Wilbur we're talking about. Remember when he had to school us? He always let us skip homework assignments and rounded up our test scores. Wilbur loves us!"

I rolled my eyes. "No, he's sick of watching us act stupid and gives us whatever we want to keep us out of trouble."

"And do we ever stay out of trouble?"

I thought back to just last week and how we accidentally let Fundy and Niki's cat out and Fundy nearly killed the both of us. Or how Sapnap accidentally set Karl's uniform on fire with him in it. Or how we mixed the sugar and flour up when we made muffins with Bad and gave everyone tooth decay. Or how just last night we let a boy in clout goggles steal important documents right under our noses.

"No," I said. "But that's not the point, Sapnap. The point I'm trying to get at is that I found the guy."

"Yeah, and? Did you kill him?"

"No."

That locked in Sapnap's goldfish attention span. He raised his eyebrows with a soft smile, "You found him, but you didn't kill him?"

"No," I repeated.

"Why not?"

"I don't know! He started talking to me and the next thing I knew, he was gone."

He laughed, "I told you, Clay. You're slipping. You get too easily distracted."

I shook my head, "It doesn't matter. We're taking Night Watch to find him again."

"Yeah, and we'll kill him, right?"

Right before the words could come out of my mouth, they disappeared as I realized exactly what Sapnap just said. My heart seemed to freeze for a moment, and Sapnap seemed to notice.

"Right, Clay?"

I slowly nodded my head, "Yeah. Yeah, for sure."

"Sweet! I'll bring my lighter," He said as he laid down and tossed the thin blanket over himself.

"Yeah, sounds good." I got off the bed and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Fundy's." I had been to Fundy's apartment countless times over the past five years, and I knew exactly where he kept his blanks.


	5. ||At a Fence||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap isn't too happy to find that Dream is having second thoughts about their mission. Meanwhile, Dream is stuck in a hopeless dilemma on whether or not to spare the charming criminal's life.

We hadn't even arrived at the slums yet when Sapnap had broken our long-winded silence with the one question I didn't want him to ask: "What did he do?"

I glanced up at his faint outline for a brief moment before returning my gaze back down to the sand where my flashlight was pointing. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Clay. I'm not stupid. I know there's a reason you let him go."

I rolled my eyes. It was moments like these I hated having a best friend. It was nice having someone to talk to about things I could never tell anyone else about. Someone who'd understand you and be the one to tell you everything you needed to hear, but I hated how well he knew me. He knew when I was lying, when I was hiding something, and exactly how to get it out of me. He knew me better than I knew myself, and I hated him so much because of that.

"You weren't there, Nick. You didn't see him."

"What happened?"

I fidgeted with my flashlight, causing the stream of light to shake and dance around the otherwise pitch black night. "He read me poetry."

"What?" I heard a hint of a laugh in his voice.

"Well, it was only a couple of lines. You know, Nick, there's an extinct kind of people. All the people we see nowadays are totally feral. So many of us have lost the screws to our minds, and we've witnessed so many things. Fights, murder, even cannibalism."

"It's the radiation," Sapnap remarked with a soft chuckle.

"I'm serious, Nick. People who read poetry don't survive. People who will trust you the minute they lay eyes on you are so quick to disappear. You don't get people like them anymore. They're kind of like Fundy and Niki's cat. They found that cat running around the slums. One of the only cats to survive, and you know what they did? They took that cat home and didn't just leave her to die."

He chuckled, "Yeah ‘til she ran away. She died anyway."

I exhaled slowly. "Nevermind."

"Come on, Dream. I don't understand what you're getting at! Help me understand. Are you saying this guy's a cat or something?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "You are the biggest idiot I've ever seen, and Fundy lives down the hall from us. I mean that he didn't even flinch when he saw me. He-He smiled at me, Nick. He talked to me about poetry. He told me my eyes match the sun."

Sapnap's stifled laughter came out loud and clear as he said, "Last time I checked, the sun wasn't green."

I ignored his laughter as I made out what had to be the slums. It was a vague outline. It was a giant boxy blob more than anything else. I could barely make out the vague smoke rising from the boxy top.

"What I'm getting is that you let this guy live because he thought the sun was green," He continued on, dragging this conversation on longer than it should be.

"No, I let him live because when you find something special, like a flower or a bird, you don't just kill it."

He scoffed, "You're forgetting that this guy holds important classified documents that we need to get back. You sound like Bad talking about Skeppy."

"What?" My heart stopped for a minute.

In a high-pitched, nasally voice I assumed was supposed to be an impression of Bad , Sapnap said, "Oh Skeppy's the best boyfriend I've ever had! I would marry him if there was a higher government to make it official! We made muffins together once, we're soulmates now!"

I scowled, "I sound nothing like that!"

"You don't call just anyone a fucking flower, Clay."

"It was an example! I didn't mean it in any weird way. I meant George is like a flower because you never see people like him around."

"Wait, George? You even know his name?" Sapnap laughed, "Oh, when are you two having children?"

"When you and Karl tell everyone what you guys do in his apartment all day."

Finally, I got him to shut up. We entered the slums, and every so often we'd pass by a campfire that had huddled around it five or six commons each. There weren't enough houses for everyone, even when the houses were practically stacked on top of each other. There were thousands of commons all in one county and only about two or three hundred houses.

My house used to be around these areas. It was painted a baby blue and we lived with a couple other families, none of which I remembered well. Those were memories I had chosen to forget as all they really did was ruin my day no matter what time it was. And over time, the faces of the people we lived with became a blur.

The only face that wasn't a blur was my sister's. I still remembered how she smiled despite everything going on. How she'd always tell me stories about knights and dragons. She'd always tell me that one day I'd find something that I truly believe in, and when that day comes, I should cherish it and protect it at all costs.

She also had a book of birds. I had since lost it now, but it was full of songbirds like the hummingbird. Her favorite was the mockingbird. They didn't just sing random tunes, they sang stories. And she loved stories.

My thoughts were interrupted when one of the common's eyes shot up to look at both Sapnap and I. Their hair looked like it was used to being pulled. There were bald spots on her head, and her eyes looked dazed, as if she was looking right through us. I knew I shouldn't feel anything towards her. Like Techno always said, it was the radiation. There was really nothing anybody could do about it.

"Do you know where this George guy lives?" Sapnap asked.

"No. I found him right outside the slums."

"Well fuck, how are we going to find him?" Sapnap groaned.

"Are you going to kill him?" I asked.

"Yeah. Unlike you, I can get the job done no matter what."

"I can get the job done easily," I retorted. "If this is about that last guy, I was just curious as to why he said what he said."

"I know. But you can't bring yourself to kill this guy either and if we're going to get off the hook, we need him dead."

"What if I just get the file and we can just pretend we killed him?" He jerked his flashlight at me, blinding me in the process.

"You're that desperate to keep this guy alive? He probably read it by now."

"I'll just tell him to keep it to himself."

"And if he doesn't?"

I looked around at the colorful box houses. "Then I'll let you kill him."

He raised an eyebrow and looked ahead. Tapping the flashlight with his index finger, he said, "Fine. But I'm not responsible for any of this if he tells anyone, right?"

"Right."

"Alright, now we just have to find him."

I scanned my flashlight around the entire perimeter around us. The entrance into the slums was not that far behind us. This was going to take us all night.

***

The only reason I knew I had found George was because his humming sounded similar to his voice. It came from a house where the blue paint was beginning to fade and peel off. The windows had been shot through and all the glass had since been picked off. The door was missing, and there appeared to be no light inside.

"Turn off your flashlight," I mumbled to Sapnap, stopping him in front of the house.

"Why?"

"He's not going to hand over the file if we're both here. I'll go in by myself, you turn off your flashlight so he thinks it's just me."

Sapnap sighed, "Fine, dude. Just don't take too long."

Both our lights vanished in a second, and I walked into the house. All I felt beneath my feet was the gravel that matched the outside. I could only make out the vague outline of the furniture, and there wasn't much. I could only make out a small circle table and what looked like a foldable chair. I followed the humming. The song sounded vaguely familiar. Like I could predict the notes he'd sing next. I entered into a room where the humming was the loudest. The moment I walked in, the humming stopped.

From the corner of the room, a black mass moved and seemed to grow.

"'Scuse me, sir, you've got the wrong house," George said, his shadow approaching me closer. "I have nothing here you'd want." His voice was small. I had never heard his voice shake the way it did now.

"George, it's me."

His whole body froze. "Clay?"

I nodded before remembering he couldn't see me. "Yeah."

"Oh!" His voice immediately shifted back to the tone I knew. His outline relaxed. Happy and cheerful. The same way he was that morning. "How'd you find me?"

"I was walking around the slums and—"

"Clay! You shouldn't be walking around this late at night! It's really dangerous. I almost got mugged last week."

"Oh no, It's okay, George. I know what I'm doing. It's not my first time. Anyway, I heard humming coming from here and I was hoping it was you. What song were you humming, by the way?"

"Oh, just something I made up." He laughed, "I'm glad you're here! You're the first sane person I've talked to in awhile."

"Aren't you cold?" I asked as a cool breeze brushed through the window. Looking around, I couldn't clearly make anything out, but I knew he didn't have any source of light or warmth. His shadow shivered.

"Yeah, but I have a sweater on. Of course, you can't really see it. I like the dark, though. Anything to help clear my head." He outstretched his arms and walked around the room before collapsing down on what sounded like a bed.

"You live here alone?"

"Yeah. I used to have my house open for whoever needed to crash for the night, but this one time a guy stabbed my side in my sleep. I haven't let anyone in since."

"Oh, my God. Are you okay?" I sounded more worried than I wanted to.

"Yeah. Happened like a month ago. Where do you live?"

My eyes widened. "I'm kind of nomadic. I don't live anywhere in particular."

"Oh, well you can live with me. As long as you promise not to stab me in my sleep, of course."

It was a tempting offer. I found my mind gravitating toward that option. But then I remembered why exactly I was there.

"No, it's okay. I was actually wondering something today."

"Really? What is it?"

My heart had never ran as fast as it did as I felt George's gaze land back on me from the bed.

It was as if I was at a fence. I could either go in and confront George about the file. If he fought, I could shoot him dead and move on. I could fight him no problem. Of course, I'd never get the chance to talk to him again. To read his poetry and learn more about him. But if I walked away from this fence, Sapnap would kill me. Wilbur and Techno would be on me. I'd be letting this Common get away with a felony. I'd never hear the end of it.

But at the same time, I'd get to hear him recite more poetry. I'd get to learn more about him, and he intrigued me. He had an energy I hadn't felt in years, and I couldn't draw myself away from it.

"What's your favorite bird?" I ran far from that fence. I approached the direction his voice was coming from and felt my leg hit the wooden bed frame. George laid in front of me. I could see his outline, and when he saw mine, he moved over to let me lay next to him.

"Definitely the owl," He replied. "A bird of the night. And they're so symbolic, you know? They always have some sort of mystery to them. They're not just night birds. Why? Do you like birds?" He looked at me, and I kept my eyes up to the ceiling, although it looked more like a never-ending black abyss looming above us.

"My sister did. She used to have this huge book of birds that she'd read to me. I wish I still had it."

"Oh, that's cool. What's your favorite bird?"

I didn't have to think about it. "The nightingale."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "They can see the good in anything, even when there's nothing to see. They continue to sing when there is no reason to."

"I like that answer," George said. "It sounds like an answer I'd give. You know, Clay, I like the way you think. You're not some mindless zombie like everyone else. You have coherent thoughts and opinions, and they're very interesting to listen to."

We both gazed up at the ceiling, and there was another burning question in the back of my mind.

"Thanks." Comfortable silence. The only sounds to be heard were the distant sounds of commons screaming about whatever they were arguing over tonight. "Hey, George?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do out here all by yourself? Do you have any friends you hang out with?"

"Well I've had friends come and go in my life. Eventually I just found it easier being alone. It saves me from having to go through another fall out. I like being alone anyway, actually. I found this book of Shakespeare's Sonnets a little after my parents died, and it was full of all these annotations. I enjoy reading those and writing my own now. Nobody ever liked reading them with me."

"Oh. You don't ever get lonely?"

"Well, I don't anymore. I have you now, and as long as I do, the past doesn't matter."

My muscles tensed up, and my breathing hitched. "Oh. Yeah." It took all my energy to push myself up and off the bed. "I should get going."

"Oh, why?" What sounded like bedsheets rustled around behind me as I reached the threshold of where the door should be. "You just got here."

"My friend's waiting for me." I turned around, and I could feel his stare shoot into mine. "We'll meet again."

Even though I couldn't see it, I knew he was smiling. The way his head cocked to the side and said, "I know," was a good indicator.

"Uh, goodnight," I mumbled.

"Goodnight, Clay. Stay safe. Oh, and—um— I do have you, right?"

I bit my lip and nodded. "Yeah. You do."

He waved. "Alright! I'll see you tomorrow! Sleep well!"

I left the house, my chest weighing me down as Sapnap flicked his light on at me, his gun aimed right between my eyes.

"Oh, it's just you. Did you get the file?" He dropped his aim.

I opened up both my hands. "Nope."

"What? Why not?"

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding hard against my ribcage, "I never asked."

Sapnap blinked. "You never asked?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want to kill him. Not yet. Forgive me for being a little curious, Nick."

"Curiousity killed the cat, Dream. You're going to get yourself killed."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because a scrawny nineteen year old with giant white sunglasses and a book of sonnets is going to do so much damage to me."

"You know what, Dream? I'll just do it. That way we can move on from this mess and get Wilbur off our asses."

I crossed my arms, and right before he entered the house, I said, "I mean, you can try."

He stopped in his trail and glanced at me. "What do you mean I can try? You don't think I can do it?"

"Well let's see, I can guilt you into not doing it, you didn't bring your lighters, and I loaded your gun."

"You loaded my gun?" He pulled out the magazine and pointed his flashlight inside.

"You son of a bitch." He said, tipping the magazine over, and we watched as Fundy's blanks spilled to the ground.


	6. ||Seek For Change||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur assigns Dream and Sapnap a new mission that hits a bit too close to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // death, gunfire, aaaaand panic attack

Usually after a night shift, you were given the next day off to rest and recover. That, however, only applied to those who weren't named Dream and Sapnap. It turned out being what Sapnap would call "Wilbur's favorites" didn't always mean unfair advantages.

"We're going off of an hour of sleep at most, Wilbur," Sapnap groaned as I opened the file Wilbur had just handed us. A little girl not even three years old yet had been taken from her mother's home. She had been gone for three days now. Blonde hair up in pigtails, crystal blue eyes, and only two front teeth, according to the description.

"Alright, we're on it," I said, shutting the file and glancing up at the older man in front of us. He smiled, although it didn't last long when Sapnap started talking again.

"Why us? Why not literally anybody else? All Fundy and Karl do all day is play Dungeons and Dragons because all you ever give them is the boring Day Watch," Sapnap complained.

"Your first priority is finding the boy who stole the file, and maybe finding this little girl will get you guys more motivated to do so," Wilbur explained. "We need that file. You understand?"

"Yessir," I replied. "We will get that file to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you. I gave you a rather short mission. Shortest one I could find. If you can't find the girl, we'll take the case up to the other counties. Good luck, both of you."

He shut the door, and I turned and walked down the path.

"We could have gotten that stupid file last night, but no. You decided to throw all your brain cells out the window," Sapnap nagged on, following close behind me. "Seriously, ask for the file. We didn't even have to kill him."

"Nick, you don't have to get involved," I replied, turning around to face him.

"I already am! Wilbur's all up on both our asses, I can't get out of it."

"They _think_ you're involved. I can take it, okay? I'm going to get the file. Just not right now." I turned back around and walked us down the desolate street.

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't know I know about it, and if I ask him, he'll know I'm a part of the Specialty."

"So? He doesn't know that already?"

"No. I was undercover when we met. Look, I don't really want him knowing."

"Why not? He's bound to find out eventually."

I was beginning to feel like a broken record going through the same motions every day. I sighed and said, "Nick, how many times have Specialties and Commons actually gotten along?"

Sapnap thought for a moment. "Niki and Fundy. Niki's a common."

"They were friends before he became a Specialty member, and don't you remember what it was like when they first got here? They isolated themselves into their room for, like, the first week, and majority of the guys have never had any experience with girls and claimed Niki and Fundy had radiation sickness because of her."

Sapnap laughed. Of course he did. He was the one who started the rumors. "What about me and Karl? He wasn't a member when we met."

"What are you talking about? He hated you! We killed his best friend right in front of him! Let's be honest, Nick, the only reason he agreed to come home with us was because he was all alone," I said, scratching behind my ear, "Look, what I'm trying to say is that George is going to run so fast when he finds out I'm a part of the corporation that wants him dead. He said he'd trust me until I gave him a reason not to, and this is the perfect reason."

"So you want this guy to trust you? Clay, why are you doing this?"

I dropped my gaze down to the dirt path. A cockroach ran right past my feet as we left the neighborhood. "Don't you feel like things are too normal? I know you want change, Nick. That's why you picked up a common off the streets of the slums. That's why you've already told Wilbur and Techno you're resigning the moment you turn eighteen. I want change too, and I found it."

"How is this random guy who holds important papers the change you're looking for?"

"I don't know. Look at us! We can kill without remorse. Fundy jokes about it all the time. Commons are total savages. They kill amongst themselves. It's so normal. We see the same things every single day. But yesterday, Nick, he looked at me and _smiled._ He introduced himself to me. He read me poetry."

"What if it's all an act? He knows he's wanted. I'm pretty sure he'd suspect the first random guy to approach him the day after his scandal to be the Specialty out to kill him."

"Then that's a risk I'm willing to take, Sapnap." I opened up the file and skimmed through it once again. "Last seen in her home three days ago. Northeast quadrant, painted blue house. Her mother suspects it was the father's doings, and he lives close by. Alright. Looks like we're sticking to the northeast quadrant." I shut the file. That was good. George lived in the southwest part of the slums.

***

We didn't stumble into many commons. It was basic knowledge that the two groups avoided one another unless one had a solid reason to invade the other. But a Common hunting down a Specialty only happened once in a blue moon. Our uniforms were like Common repellent. Anytime someone within the slums saw us, they'd scurry away like a rabbit seeing a fox.

"You have more bullets, right?" Sapnap asked, pulling out the magazine of his gun. We were deep within the slums. It was a slow day today. No fights had broken out, and all the commons seemed oddly attracted to their homes, which was surprising since the vast majority of our missions led us to this quadrant.

"Not for you. Looks like I'll be doing all the shooting today," I replied, taking my gun from my belt and pointing it around. "I can finally redeem myself."

He scoffed, "Could've done that already, but then he read you poetry."

I scowled at him as he broke out into a fit of laughter. "George is an exception. Look, I could kill anybody else no problem."

"So you'll kill that little girl we're looking for?" He smirked, crossing his arms.

I glared at him and mumbled, "Fuck you."

His laughter hit a quick stop when we heard an ear-splitting shriek break through the otherwise quiet slums. It was enough to make my heart drop and my entire body freeze.

Time froze. Earth stopped mid orbit. The wind hit a brick wall, leaving the dust suspended in mid air. Sapnap looked to me with the same wide eyes I had.

"I think we found her," He mumbled, spinning his gun around his finger as he led me to where he assumed the shriek came from. He brought me to a metallic green box-house. Painted in red spray paint was the number seventeen on it. The door-frame was boarded shut and inside, voices could be heard.

We stood before the door. I hated boarded up doors. You couldn't get passed them unless you kicked it down. Unfortunately, Sapnap didn't give me much time to think before he kicked it in. I flinched as we gazed inside.

All the windows had been boarded up. Minimal light actually managed to find its way into the house. I could barely make out the group of people in the corner. Sapnap flicked on his flashlight and pointed it to the people. There she was in the hands of one of the men, her mouth covered by his hand. A small little girl, although her blonde hair was no longer in pigtails. It had become a straggly mess with random strands sticking in random directions. Her crystal eyes looked up at us with tears running down her face.

"What are you doing?" I asked, taking a careful step forward into the house. The light from the broken down "door" revealed the house to be almost completely empty. The men flinched at the crunch of the sand as I took another step forward, Sapnap following my footsteps inside.

"You Specialties wouldn't understand," One of the men said. He looked young, about my age; although, he didn't look too hot. That was probably the last thing he felt. He was as pale as a vampire; he was just missing the fangs. His eyes were as wide as the moon as if he were being held at gunpoint. "This is for the greater good."

"What exactly are you guys doing?" Sapnap asked.

"We are overpopulated! Hundreds are out here homeless!" The man holding the child shouted. He looked older, but not by much. Maybe early twenties. You could always tell when someone had officially gone insane. Twitchy red eyes, hair loss, a natural yelling tone in their voice. "We need a purge. We must stop reproducing! This child has been forced into an inevitable life of suffering. She will get beat on the streets. A small child like her doesn't stand a chance." He looked to the younger man. His blue eyes dropped to the floor, and I could see the small pocket knife in his hand tremble as he flipped the blade up.

My eyes shifted between the knife and the girl. "Why'd you wait so long? She's been missing for three days."

The man glanced to the boy with darts. "He wanted some time with her before the procedure."

"There's better ways to deal with overpopulation. Killing kids isn't one of them."

"Why not? They won't remember it. They won't ever have to go through the shit we Commons have to go through every fucking day—"

"Sapnap, grab the kid," I whispered as the man slipped into his tangent.

"What?" Sapnap asked, apparently too indulged in the rant to remember why we were there in the first place.

"Grab the fucking kid!" I snapped, whipping out my gun and pointing it between the two men as they began to scramble to their feet. Sapnap jumped into action and dove for the child. I held my aim between the two of them, especially the one with the knife. He merely watched as Sapnap fought the other man for the girl.

This wasn't my first mission involving a child. I always hated shooting my gun in front of them. In most cases, I always waited until Sapnap took the kid outside. No kid deserved to watch someone die. It was one of those things that the human brain could not bare to forget, and it remembered everything. From the actual shooting to the way the person fell. From the clothes they were wearing to the way the killer looked at you, contemplating whether to take you with them or leave you to waste away.

My hands shook, and my palms grew sweatier by the second. _Why was Sapnap taking so long?_ Just standing in this situation was making me light-headed. It was like all the oxygen in the room had just drained away. It was _so loud_ with the crying and the screaming. My heart raced in a familiar fashion. Sapnap pointed his flashlight at me and said something, although I didn't quite catch it.

The walls were closing in. But how was that possible? It was such an open space with enough room to fit several families; how could I possibly be claustrophobic? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, as if sensing something was coming. Maybe someone had a gun pointed at my back. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that happened.

I fired the gun, not quite sure where I aimed. The usual bang drained away as I dropped my gun and spun around. Nobody was there, and yet it felt like they were staring at me.

With all the energy I had left, I trudged out of the house, throwing myself against the wall and looking down at my trembling hands. I couldn't feel the cotton of my gloves, and yet my fingers tingled.

"Dream?" I heard faintly. I hesitated before looking up to the door where Sapnap stood, the little girl in his arms. "You good, man?"

When I tried to speak, nothing came out. Still, he heard me. He nodded and stepped next to me, mimicking the position I was in.

"You got him right in the head," He said a bit too calmly for what he had just said. "You know the other guy? The wimp with the knife? He's her dad." He pulled her up into a more secure hold. She stared at me before leaning over, holding her hands out with grabbing motions. I slowly held out my hand, and she grabbed it, staring at it as if it was the most interesting hand in the world. Sapnap chuckled.

"Come on, Dream. You have to admit that this is the most adorable thing you've ever seen," He said.

"I, uh, I guess," I managed to croak out. It was like some kind of pull back to reality. A reminder that I wasn't actually going to die, especially with the advantage I'd have over most people.

He smiled softly. "There we go. Are you okay? Wilbur's such a dick for giving us this mission. This is all his fault."

I took a deep breath. "My fault for taking it."

Sapnap shook his head quickly, "No, dude, it's not your fault. You should really stop taking the fault for everything. Anyway, you good? We should get Rebecca back to her home."

"Rebecca?"

"That's her name. At least that's what her dad calls her."

"Oh. Just, Just give me a moment," I mumbled, sliding down the hot wall until I reached the floor. Sapnap sat down next to me.

"What triggered it this time?" He asked. "Loud noises don't bother you anymore, do they?"

"Uh," I pulled at my fingerless gloves. "Gunshots don't bother me. I don't really know what happened. The whole situation just, it kind of just— I don't know. It reminded me of it."

He nodded softly, "What did you think about?"

"The fact I had to shoot a guy in front of a child. I could feel myself getting pulled into it, Nick. I could hear all the yelling." I let my face fall into my hands. "It was like I was slipping back into the moment."

"It's okay, Clay. You're okay. It's over and done with. You weren't in any danger. They had a pocket knife. What were they going to do with that? Rebecca is safe now, and so are you."

I nodded as I lifted my head back up. "Thank you."

He patted me on the back as he climbed back onto his feet. "No problem. Now let's return the kid and go back home. I'm so fucking tired."

"Uh, let me do one more thing." I pushed myself off the ground.

I entered the house and turned on my flashlight. In the corner, the man stood frigid. The only thing that moved were his eyes as I slowly approached him.

"Listen—" I brought my gun up the moment he started talking.

"You are such a shit person," I growled. My blood boiled as it rushed through my veins. "Your own daughter? How much radiation did you inhale to bring you to almost killing your own child? My parents fucking died before they let anything happen to me and my sister."

"I'm sorry," He mumbled. "She was destined for a life of misery. She's from a broken family. Her mom wants me dead. Not only that, but the Commons here are crazy! I-I just don't want her going down the wrong path. It was my friend's idea, I swear!" He pointed to the body beside us.

I sighed, running a hand through my dampened hair. "Listen, man, I'd love to let you go, but I also want this kid to live. I've seen this kind of shit first hand, and I hold a special kind of hate for those who do this kind of thing." The tip of my gun was close enough to touch his chest.

"I won't do it again," He said, his voice quivering.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. They'll never do it again, and then send you off into a mission where you will always do it again." I looked briefly over my shoulder to see Sapnap and the little girl looking in. Her crystal eyes bored into my green ones as if she knew exactly what I was about to do. I put my gun back into my belt. Before he could move, I swiped the knife from his hand.

"Alright, you listen to me, and you take in every fucking word I say, you understand?" I snapped, and he nodded quickly. "I'm sparing your life for one reason and one reason only: That little girl outside may have a broken family, but at least she has one. I'm not going to be the one to take that away from her. But if I get one more mission involving you and her, you're dead." I jabbed my shaky finger into his chest.

"Okay, okay, okay! I'm sorry." His entire body trembled, and sweat beaded across his forehead. His eyeballs looked ready to roll right out of his skull. He held his hands up in a surrender stance.

"Good," I replied, taking a step back. His eyes held onto mine as I left the building.

The moment I entered back into the sunlight, Sapnap said, "Alright! Let's get this girl home. The quicker we find her home, the quicker we get to finally get some sleep." I didn't know what he did, but he had somehow managed to get the kid to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write out the reference due to length so lemme just say that that was Alyssa's kid and I named the kid Rebecca based off the fish Beckerson from the smp lol


	7. ||The Thing With Feathers||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream finds himself at George's doorstep after an especially terrible panic attack. From there, he learns about George's favorite form of art: poetry.

There were multiple ways I was going to find George in his house. Perhaps he'd be sitting in the corner like last night, or maybe he'd be reading. Or maybe he'd have a knife ready to kill whoever walked through his door frame. However, just when I thought I had him all figured out and had properly thought of every way I could possibly find him, he proved me wrong.

I poked my head into the blue metallic box-house expecting to see him sitting down or pacing around, but no. He looked like a starfish laying in the middle of the room with all his limbs stretched out on the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking inside. His house was empty aside from what I assumed was once a kitchen. It had been painted blue, although that was probably years ago judging by the chipping of the paint. The counter was made of wood, and the cabinets looked to have been kicked in. The house was huge— big enough to fit several families in it. And to think he still chose to live alone. Children's toys strewn around the room, all of which were faded of color and covered in dirt.

There was this one in particular that caught my eye. It was one of those rocking horses that rocked back and forth. I used to own one of those. It was my favorite toy. I used to spend all my time on it; wasting all my excess energy away on it before bed.

George lifted his head and smiled as his eyes fell on me.

"Hi, Clay!" He sat up. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Truth be told, I didn't expect to either. When Sapnap and I arrived back to our apartment, I was planning on crashing the same way Sapnap did. However, as I laid on my small military cot with the thin blanket draped over me staring up at the ceiling, I knew I wasn't going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. Gunshots and incoherent screaming played itself on repeat like a broken record in my head. It was like I had opened Pandora's box for the first time in months.

And the next thing I knew, I was outside once again in the only other outfit I owned on my way to the slums.

"What were you doing?" I repeated, sitting down criss-cross across from him.

"I was meditating."

"Meditating?" I hadn't heard that term in years. Even then, I didn't even remember where I had heard that from.

"Yeah! It really helps. It's a good way to clear my mind. But enough about me, how are you?"

"Crappier than usual, I will admit," I replied, running my hand through my tousled up hair.

George frowned and cocked his head to the side like those tiny puppies I'd find on the covers of ancient magazines. "Oh no! Why?"

I shook my head, "Just a bad day."

"Oh. You wanna know what makes me feel better on a bad day?"

"Yes please." That was the whole reason I was there.

"Talking about it."

I scoffed. "Very funny."

"If it was funny, you'd be laughing, Clay. Why's your day bad? Did something bad happen?"

I sighed, looking from the way his dark mocha eyes searched for the answer to his question through my green ones down to how he'd fidget with his shoelaces without consciously realizing it.

"I guess you could say something bad happened."

"What happened?" He wouldn't even blink.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I replied briefly. "I'll be fine. I just... Something not-so great happened today."

He hesitated before nodding with his signature smile. "Okay. What are you here for?"

The way my heart jumped into my throat caused me to almost choke on my own spit. "Do I need a reason to come over?"

"Well I suppose not, but I just assumed you needed something as you came in here and started talking about how you had a bad day. Usually if you just want to be in the company of someone else for no real reason, you'd just come in and lay with me."

"Oh." I should have seen that coming. "I—uh—well I was wondering if you could read me more poetry." For the first time in years, I felt small. Like I wasn't the top shooter in my county or feared because I wore an all-black uniform. I felt, for the first time in years, exactly how I was: a mentally and physically exhausted eighteen-year-old boy who just wanted someone to read him poetry.

His entire being seemed to light up. He straightened up his slouched over posture, his eyes were like swirling mocha coffee, his smile grew, although I could tell he was trying to not look as eager as he did. "Really?"

I brought my knees up to my chest. "Yeah."

"Which one?"

He really asked me which one. I barely knew what poetry was until yesterday let alone any specific poems. I watched as he walked across the room and grabbed a book from his bag that sat lonely in the corner.

"Your favorite one," I replied as he sat back down across from me. He held two books: the one I saw with him yesterday, and a red cover one I had never seen before. He opened the red cover up, skimming quickly through the pages.

"My favorite poem is called _"Hope" is the Thing with Feathers."_

He flipped through the book before landing on a certain page. He glanced up at me before beginning to read.

 **"** _Hope" is the thing with feathers -_  
 _That perches in the soul -_  
 _And sings the tune without the words -_  
 _And never stops - at all -_

_And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -_   
_And sore must be the storm -_   
_That could abash the little Bird_   
_That kept so many warm -_

_I've heard it in the chillest land -_   
_And on the strangest Sea -_   
_Yet - never - in Extremity,_   
_It asked a crumb - of me."_

I didn't realize he had finished the poem until he shut the book and asked me what I thought. My immediate thought was that I had no idea what any of what he had just read meant. "Nice."

"Right? Do you know what it means?"

"Uhhhh yeah," I replied.

"Cool! What do you think it means?"

My mind drew a blank, and I resorted to staring at George until he realized I had no idea. It didn't take him long.

"You know the cool thing about poetry? There's no wrong way to look at it. If you genuinely believe a poem is about something, then that's what it's about," He said. "I think this poem is saying that no matter what, there's always hope because even through the storm, you can still hear the bird sing."

"Can I see it?" I asked. He flipped back to the page and handed me the book. In blue ink was a strange mix of cursive and print that was barely legible. The smaller the handwriting became, the more it became blue blobs. The scratch was all over the page with arrows pointing to the lines they correlated with. There were words circled and sentences underlined, and there was a star next to the title at the top of the page.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"I think," I read over the words, trying to ignore all the annotations sprawled along the sides, "It's kind of strange they used a bird to show hope. All the birds out here are dead."

"Well the poem's really old," George replied, taking the book back from my hands before I could take the chance to look through the other pages. "But it's my favorite. I found it a little after my parents died, and it definitely helped me through the tough times."

"How? It's just words on a paper."

"It's not just words on a paper, Clay. Words are like a gateway to another world."

I rolled my eyes, "That's so cheesy."

"No, it's not. It's true. It's like an escape from reality."

"How? You're just staring at some dead trees with pen ink written all over it."

"You're not looking at it deeply enough." His smile deterred slightly. "You're only looking at one side of the equation. Don't just look at the letter combinations. Look at what the words they create mean."

I shrugged, "I guess I just don't get poetry then."

"Then why did you ask me to read it?"

"I don't care about what the poems mean. I just like when you read them."

His eyes widened and he covered his face with his hands. I couldn't tell whether he was frustrated with me or not. Just when I thought he was going to kick me out, he said, "Alright." He looked anywhere but at me. "I'll keep reading you poetry, but only on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You have to actually try to understand it."

"How do I do that?"

He lifted his head, and I noticed a light tint of pink on his face.

"Just read the poem and try to find a meaning."

"Alright. Give me back the poem."

He hesitated before handing me back the book. I flipped through the worn out pages until I found the poem with the star next to it.

"'"Hope" is a thing with feathers'," I read, glancing up at him. "Hope's a bird. Why a bird?"

He shrugged, "Why do you think it's a bird?"

I glanced down at the blue handwriting. "Because hope is free and can, and usually will, take you on pleasant adventures."

He rolled his eyes with a smile, "Don't read what I put."

"Well it's right there." I showed him the entire page of the rambling blue scribbles. "But if a bird is free to fly and take you everywhere, why can't it just fly away? There. I did it. Hope is a bird because, just like a bird, it's dead."

"Clay!"

"What? It's my interpretation." I waited for a response, but when he didn't give me one, I read out the next lines. "'Perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words.' Birds never go back to the same nest. Once that bird leaves, they're gone forever. You know, they never actually say the bird came back. Maybe they're saying that even though hope is resilient, it's not permanent."

"Well nothing's permanent. You're going to go through times where you feel hopeless." He looked at me as if he were somehow reading me like a book. "But eventually the bird will come back. How do I know that? Because birds _do_ come back. Pigeons and doves always return back to their nests. Same with eagles."

Wow. I could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. They were words I hadn't heard in years. "You are so hopeful," I said. "It amazes me, really. You live in a blue metal box all alone surrounded by deserted land, and yet you still think a bird as small as hope will come back."

"Well because it's come back before."

"Do you genuinely believe things will get better, George?"

"Yes," He said with no hesitation. "Maybe not globally seeing as we do live in the Post-Apocalyptic Era, but personally, yeah I think we'll be okay, both of us."

"Both of us?"

"I actually have a dream," He said, ignoring my question. "I love pretty things, and the northern lights are so beautiful! I heard you could still see it up in Alaska. I want to go there one day, and I have hope we will. I saw an article that said that Canada might open their borders back up for us. Things are looking up, even if you can't really actively see it."

I nodded slowly. I couldn't tell if he was too naive or if I was too cynical. Borders to Canada don't mean anything if there is no way to get there. But I also didn't keep up with the news, and apparently George did. "Good for you, George. I don't have any goals in life. I don't have any dreams, either. Maybe that's why there's just no hope for me."

"There's hope for you, you just can't see it. The storm in the poem, Clay. The bird came back."

His stare was enough to make my soul shiver. "The bird came back," I repeated, shutting the book and handing it back to him. "Not all birds come back. Sure, your's may be a dove or something, but mine could easily be a hummingbird who never returns."

"I guess you're right, but do you really want to believe that? Wouldn't it be better just to think that maybe today's the day you finally find hope?"

"I've been waiting for almost ten years, though. If it hasn't come yet, it'll never come at all."

"Don't say that. It took me nineteen years to meet you, and so far it's been worth the wait."

"Oh— well, that's different," I stammered, covering my face with my hand. "It's not like you actually sat down and waited every single day for me to come. You didn't even know I existed until yesterday."

"Oh I—yeah, true," He sighed, his eyes glancing over my head.

I looked the direction he was looking to see nothing there aside from an abandoned cobweb. "Okay, listen, George. I'm not saying you're wrong. That's just the way I think about it."

"If I'm being honest, I don't really like the way you think about it," He chuckled softly, gazing at me in a way that caused my heart to jump. "I've been there before. I wish you didn't feel that way, Clay."

"Yeah," I mumbled, getting up to my feet. "I think I'm going to go."

"Oh, why?" He asked, lifting his head and following me with his wide brown eyes. I could sense some worry in the tone of his voice.

"Well you've given me some food for thought. Now I want to think about it." I dusted the dirt off my jeans and handed back the book.

"Will you actually think about it? I can give you the poem, if you want."

"No, it's your favorite poem. You should keep it."

"I can write it out and give you the copy. Please?" It was just a look. Although he did have a little pout with it. It reminded me of what Fundy used to do whenever I stole his drawing pencils. He'd look up at me (yes, it had to be up, even if that meant going down on his knees), look me in the eyes with bright wide eyes begging for sympathy, and pout. Sometimes he'd even clap his hands together.

And it never worked. Eventually he gave up trying. Then again, I always knew I'd give back his drawing pencils, and even if I didn't, he wouldn't care because he always had backup pencils.

"Okay." It was just because he wanted to.

He scrambled for his pen and clicked it as he grabbed his blue book and scribbled out the poem. His letters came out slanted and half of the poem was in cursive and other was in sloppy print.

"Can you read that?" He held it out to me. Every few words would stand out as the only words I could actually read without squinting or trying too hard.

"Yeah."

"Great!" He ripped out the page and handed it to me. I read it over. I could still read it, although it took far longer than the typed up and printed words did.

"Thanks." I folded up the paper and slipped it into my pocket.

"I'll see you later, Clay. I hope your bad day gets better."

"Oh." I stopped in the doorway. Silence. My mind was quiet. No gunshots, no screams. All I could think about were birds and random birdsongs. My breathing was stable, my heart was beating. I was fine.

I was okay.


End file.
